


Among the Gods

by Calacious



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, First Kiss, M/M, Pre-Slash, diner setting, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22066294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calacious/pseuds/Calacious
Summary: Spinelli is going to kill Maxie, right after he strangles her.
Relationships: Jason Morgan/Damian Spinelli
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Among the Gods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [csi_sanders1129](https://archiveofourown.org/users/csi_sanders1129/gifts).



> This is set in an alternative universe, and is not at all in keeping with events on the show. 
> 
> Fluff, mild angst
> 
> Happy New Year, csi_sanders1129! I hope that this does not disappoint.

Jason, aka Stone Cold (at least that’s what Spinelli calls the man in his head), is all hard muscle and sharp planes, and way outside of Spinelli's league. Spinelli is ninety-five percent certain that Jason's picture can be found alongside the online dictionary definition of sexy, whereas Spinelli's can be found as the definition of plain, no words necessary. 

"Ooh," Maxie says, punching Spinelli in the arm and forcing him to look away from the object of his current obsession. 

"You have good taste," she says, nodding toward where Jason is sitting on a bar stool at the counter of the diner, eating breakfast. “How long have you been pining over him? The last five and a half months?”

"Stop it," Spinelli hisses, stabbing at his pancakes, and blushing profusely.

Maxie rolls her eyes and slaps Spinelli on the arm. "Relax," she says. "Your Greek god isn't even looking in our direction."

"He's not mine," Spinelli mutters, tearing at a piece of bacon. No matter how much Spinelli might want the other man to be his, he knows that it will never happen. Solid, strong men like Jason Morgan do not go for thin waifs like himself.

"But you want him to be yours," Maxie says, raising an eyebrow when Spinelli scowls at her.

Sometimes Spinelli thinks his best friend is a witch. Days like this, he knows it’s true. Either that, or she’s a mind reader.

"I can help," she says. 

Shaking his head, Spinelli grabs Maxie's wrist when she moves to get up. She narrows her eyes at him, and he lets her wrist go as though burnt. 

"Let me do this for you," she says, smoothing out her dress. "I owe you for what you did to reunite Georgie and I. And lord knows that if  _ I _ don’t make a move on your behalf, you’ll spend the rest of your days as a lonely spinster, or whatever passes for that in a man."

Spinelli can feel himself blushing at the praise, and the personal jab. "It was nothing," he says of his help in reconciling the two sisters.

It hadn't been easy getting the sisters back together, but it had been worth it. Maxie and Georgie were better off in each other's lives, all Spinelli had done was help them see how important each of them was to the other. Maxie had dubbed it a Christmas miracle and had kissed him on the cheek and squeezed him until he couldn't breathe. 

"It was everything," Maxie says, emotion coloring her voice. She presses a kiss to the top of Spinelli's head, and saunters up to the counter.

Too nervous to watch, and more than just a little embarrassed that his best friend is approaching his crush on his behalf, Spinelli pushes his plate aside and drops his head onto the tabletop, wishing that he could make himself disappear. All he needs is an after Christmas miracle to make it happen. Either that or a freak earthquake that would open the earth up directly beneath him and swallow him whole.

He feels eyes on him. His skin itches. He is going to kill Maxie when he finishes strangling her. 

“Hey, mind if I sit here?”

Not looking up at the soft voice, Spinelli gestures toward the seat that Maxie had vacated and waits for the floor to drop out beneath him. He hopes his death will be quick, but death by humiliation is rarely a quick thing. He’s learned this the hard way.

“Uh...” the voice sounds uncertain and Spinelli lifts his eyes, peering at the man through the fringe of his bangs.

_ Kill me now. He’s even hotter up close. _

“You don’t have to stay,” Spinelli says. “My friend thinks she’s being helpful...she’s not.”

“Well...” Jason’s voice sounds sheepish, and his shy smile makes Spinelli’s mouth go dry. 

“I can use all the help I can get,” Jason says, voice low as though he’s merely voicing his thoughts aloud and doesn’t really mean for Spinelli, or anyone else, to hear him.

_ Wait. What? _

Spinelli almost does a double take, and even though all he does is raise his head from the tabletop, he feels like he’s got whiplash. It’s disconcerting. Jason’s the Greek god, not Spinelli with his brown, shaggy hair and muddy, green eyes. He’s thin and willowy, not buff and built like a statue carved of marble.

Jason gives him a kind of helpless shrug and embarrassed smile. The tips of Jason’s ears go pink, and Spinelli feels his stomach drop down to his toes. 

_ Stone Cold is freaking adorable like this, _ Spinelli’s inner geek preens over this thought, and he melts a little.

Spinelli just sits there, mouth agape, blinking like an idiot, because he hadn’t thought the man of his dreams could  _ be _ any cuter, and now he’s just been proven a fool. Shy, not so stone cold, Jason is even hotter than the cut from stone version. It defies logic. 

Fingers gently push Spinelli’s mouth closed with a tap on his chin, and there’s laughter, light and breathy, in his ear. 

“Careful, you’ll catch flies,” Maxie says. She’s pulling a chair up to the table. The legs scraping against the tiles help to draw Spinelli from the trance-like state he’s been stuck in since Jason sat down and started talking. 

Jason shakes his head as though he’s coming out of a trance as well, and Spinelli’s heart does a little somersault before beating like mad in his chest. He presses a hand to his chest to ease some of the ache that’s settled there.

_ This can’t be healthy _ .

“Honestly,” Maxie says, and Spinelli doesn’t need to tear his eyes away from Jason to know that she’s rolling her eyes, he can hear it in her voice. “Do I have to do everything?”

“Jason Morgan, meet Spinelli,” Maxie says, reaching for Jason’s and Spinelli’s hands and placing them together. “Spinelli, meet Jason Morgan.”

When neither of them move to actually shake hands (Spinelli’s too busy marveling at the electric pulse that seems to be coursing through the point of contact that his hand has with Jason’s) Maxie lets out a groan that’s loud enough to draw the eyes of several other diners. Spinelli would shrink back into his seat, but he’s unable to tear his hand, or his gaze, away from Jason’s.

“Shake!” Maxie all but shouts, and before Spinelli can really register what’s happening, his hand is being engulfed by Jason’s much bigger, broader one and they’re shaking. 

And then, they’re sitting there, across the table from one another, holding hands. Spinelli isn’t certain that he’s breathing any more, and that’s okay, because he thinks that maybe it isn’t necessary to breathe when he’s sitting among the gods. 

The spell is broken when Maxie mutters, “Get a room already.” Jason, sheepish and blushing all the way to his neck, extricates his hand from Spinelli’s and he offers Spinelli an apologetic grin. “Sorry,” he says. “It’s just...”

“He’s been jonesing on you for the past six months,” Maxie says around a mouthful of breakfast potatoes. 

“What?” Spinelli does do a double take this time, looking from his best friend to the man he’s been idolizing for months now, certain that his friend has got it wrong. What could a god that walks the earth see in someone like him?

“It’s true,” Jason says, shrugging, looking away. “I’m not usually...that is...”

“He’s not usually this shy,” Maxie cuts in, translating Jason’s pauses and uncertainty with her typical brashness.

“But you’re beautiful,” Spinelli says, the words slipping out of his mouth before he can recall them. 

_ Man-eating earthquake, where are you when I need you? _

“So are you,” Jason says, voice quiet and filled with sincerity.

Spinelli can feel the flush of heat travel up his neck and to the tips of his ears as he blushes. His ears are ringing with the declaration. Certain that he’s heard wrong, he shakes his head. 

He’s not beautiful. He’s plain, and awkward, and about as pleasing to look at as a wookie, or a gremlin that’s been fed after midnight. 

“You two are pathetic,” Maxie declares, shoving her plate and chair back. 

Spinelli winces as the chair screeches against the tile. It’s jarring, and Spinelli knows that Maxie did it on purpose, that she’s doing something witchy and working her magic on him and Jason. 

“I’ll see you back at the apartment,” Maxie says, tossing money onto the table. “Or not. I won’t wait up.” Her laughter trickles behind her, along with the sound of her heels clacking against the tiles. 

Left alone with Jason, and with a breakfast that has long grown cold, Spinelli isn’t sure what to do with his hands. Thankfully, Jason catches Spinelli’s hands in his own and holds them still. 

“Want to get out of here?” Jason asks. 

Not trusting his voice, Spinelli nods. Speechlessness is new to him. Maxie would say he was tongue-tied or that his voice was on temporary hiatus -- a result of being bitten by love’s bug. It’s silly and completely ridiculous, but the more Spinelli simply sits there, staring at the object of his affections, not speaking, the more he believes it to be true. 

“Where do you want to go?”

Spinelli has no idea how he got from his seat in the diner to outside of the diner, and is mildly concerned with the loss of time. But his hand is warm in Jason’s and Jason’s smiling down at him, and Spinelli can think of nothing else. 

“Anywhere you are,” Spinelli says, mentally kicking himself for sounding like one of those heroines from a historical romance novel. 

Jason chuckles, and rubs his thumb over Spinelli’s knuckles, and Spinelli’s knees nearly buckle. “How about we go to the park?” he suggests. 

“Okay,” Spinelli says, wishing that he could get his tongue to commit to something a little more coherent. 

He’s never been this terse in his life. Words have never been a problem for him, quite the opposite. Most of the time, Maxie was begging him to shut up enough for her to get a word in edgewise, though she was no better than him. Pots and kettles and all that.

“There’s just one thing I want to do first,” Jason says, and then he’s turning Spinelli in his arms, holding him close, titling Spinelli’s head up with a calloused hand that is more gentle than it has any right to be.

“What’s that?” Spinelli asks, breathless, eyes locked on a pair of lips that the gods would envy. And he really is one of those fainting damsels in distress being rescued by a knight in shining armor. It should make him feel as pathetic as Maxie had claimed he was, but it doesn’t. 

Instead of answering Spinelli’s question with words, Jason’s lips capture his and Spinelli’s fingers dig into the man’s broad shoulders, holding on for dear life as his heart leaps into his throat, his stomach drops out at his feet, and he’s floating away on cloud nine. 

Years later, when Maxie tells the story of how Spinelli and Jason met, to Spinelli and Jason’s children (they don’t know Maxie’s their surrogate mother), who hang on her every word, she embellishes a little. There are sparkles and magical glitter, and Maxie makes it seem like she waved a magic wand and said the magic words that brought Spinelli and Jason together. That, it wasn’t Fate, or a benevolent god, who intervened on their behalf, but that it was Magic of the purest of love, and Maxie’s divine intervention.

Spinelli has to concede the point. Without Maxie’s particular brand of friendship -- pushy, brash -- he would probably still be pining over Jason Morgan. As it is, they did meet, and they married, and they have three adorable children -- two with the godlike looks of Jason, and a little boy who’s the spitting image of Spinelli. 

They listen right along with their children, a dopey, besotted smile on Jason’s face, their hands twined together, and Spinelli’s heart is full to bursting with love. 


End file.
